


Akira? Isn't that, like, an old anime movie?

by dittyditto (Triple_A)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Continuity What Continuity, Cussing, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Indulgent use of Vine references, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, They/them pronouns for Akira, Trans Character, Trans Gavin Reed, because goddammit hes not just a sadistic bastard, big brother rk900, binders, cringey? a little? sure, found family trope, gavin is still a dick but less of a dick we'll get more backstory on that later, kind of, my inner fourteen year old is coming out, slightly OOC, some dirty talk, sometimes, this is really self indulgent im not gonna lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-13 02:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15353742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triple_A/pseuds/dittyditto
Summary: The old I.T worker had quit, and now the newly hired Akira Robins was on the job.alternatively: a family doesn't have to be a mom, dad, and a kid. a family can be a college grad, an old dad, two android bros, a dog, and an assholealso alternatively: i don't know these people yet but they seem nice and i'm about to change their entire perception of me as i warm up to themA series of drabbles surrounding the interactions of the DBH cast with Akira





	1. The introduction of Robins (Connor,  Gavin)

**Author's Note:**

> Me? A self-indulgent writer seeking a good frenemies relationship between Gavin and Connor through an oc? More likely then you'd think
> 
> akira is lowkey based on my nerdass older brother lmfaoooo jerry if you're reading this i've invaded your bedroom

**Connor, I.**

The sudden arrival of the short, black-haired stranger wasn't something strange, or terribly attention catching. Logically, they would be someone here to bail someone else out of the holding cells, or a witness to be interrogated. Lieutenant Anderson barely paid them any mind, as did the rest of the precinct, so Connor tried to do the same, glancing at their arrival once before returning to his case report.

But they weren't being led by an officer to the holding cells, or to the interrogation room, and curiosity encouraged him to continue peeking over his terminal to look. They weren't going in either of those directions- in fact, they made a beeline straight for Fowler's office, looking incredibly more conspicuous the longer Connor watched them. Dressed in a large, dark grey coat, a woolly knitted hat upon their head, eyes half obscured by the light catching on large wire-rimmed spectacles. A large navy backpack, almost comically huge on them. Typical Detroit style.

They barely faced Connor's direction long enough for Connor to catch a clear enough glimpse, but it was enough for him to analyze them, quickly building and narrowing possible identities down until he reached a conclusion.

_SYNC IN PROGRESS//5%  
_

_PROCESSING DATA//26%_

_PROCESSING DATA//62%_

_PROCESSING DATA//100%_

[ROBINS, AKIRA]  
[BORN 7/14/2020 // GRADUATED 05/06/2038 FROM UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY. UNEMPLOYED.]  
[CRIMINAL RECORD: NONE]

[55% // LEVEL OF STRESS]

So probably not a criminal, unless their crime streak was starting today in the Detroit Police Headquarters. He continued to observe with half an eye as Akira Robins talked, muted and indistinct, to Fowler behind the glass walls of the office. Unlikely procedure for a witness to go directly to the captain, so that ruled out that possibility. Perhaps they were here for a job-the last I.T worker had quit, and had supposedly found another job at the Detroit News Tower (rumors suggested otherwise-the current popular one stated that he'd run off with an android to Canada to avoid his ex-wife).

"Connor, what're ya lookin' at?" Hank's gruff voice jerked Connor from his musings. The lieutenant turned, craning his neck to see what Connor was gazing at.

"Sorry, Hank. There's someone possibly applying for the new I.T job opening." Connor replied, a faint apology of a smile on his face. "Nothing too interesting."

"Hmph. About time. Maybe now Reed'll stop griping about his damn blue screen situation." Hank grunted, and Connor hummed in agreement. Their fellow detective had been resigned to work from an old laptop, as their terminal screen glowed with the blue screen of death. It was the current topic of his angsting, having shifted from Connor's presence, to the arrival of his improved model, an RK900 named Calen, as Reed's partner (that period of complaint and whining had been especially drawn out, even despite the successful Android revolution a few months prior), and finally, to the virus that had found its way to Detective Reed's terminal. Both Connor, Calen, and all the other androids in the police department were forbidden from trying to interfere with it, after one PY700 attempted to fix it and immediately went into a stasis that she couldn't be shaken from. She had been sent to an Android-friendly repair center, but the same could not be said for the computer, which housed confidential documents.

The gentle creak of Fowler's door attracted Connor's attention once more, as both Fowler and Robins stepped out, the latter having shed their overcoat and hat and looking very vulnerable and shy without it. They almost seemed even smaller, in their slightly wrinkled white button-down and black jeans, their figure comprised lanky limbs and bones that seemed disproportionate with their short stature. The fact was further accentuated by the backpack that hung from their shoulders.

"Listen up folks!" Fowler barked, and all in the precinct turned their attention to him. Robins besides him seemed to flinch. "This is Robins, they're gonna be the new techie in this department. Whatever problems you got, they're your guy."

Connor, and a few other among the precinct, waved or said some small greetings, and Robins seemed to blush all the brighter, almost looking fevered. "Uh-hm" They cleared their throat. "Hello, it's nice to meet you all. I'm very happy to be joining your service." A slight bow of their head indicated the end of their formalities.

_ANALYZING..._

[^ 63% // LEVEL OF STRESS]

Everyone returned back to their previous work. A few, including Tina Chen, went up to Robins and made some small greetings, welcomes, etcetera. Connor was tempted to do the same, as he looked towards Hank with a questioning eye.

Hank just sighed and grinned, ruefully. "Just go say hi, Connor. The kid looks like they could do with your goofy-ass personality."

"I was designed to be likeable, Hank. The fact that you would describe it as 'goofy' says a lot about what people you tolerate." Connor replied with a smile, as he stood and made his way over to Robins, currently dealing with about three other people.

"Hi, my name is Connor." He said, with a hand extended in a handshake. "I'm an android detective here. It's nice to have you join us, Akira."

"O-oh, thank you," Robins accepted the handshake, face now receding from ruddy to pink. "I swear, I'm not usually this...I mean, I'm not always so stuttery, it's just-just the new environment, you know?" They stammered, bordering on rambling.

[v 23% // STRESS LEVELS]

"It's no problem" Laughed Connor, gently clasping Akira on the shoulder, feeling them tense lightly beneath his touch before slowly relaxing. "It was the same for me, even if I wasn't yet a deviant at the time, just being around people was a bit...unnerving."

"Really?"

[v 14% // STRESS LEVELS]

"Really. I didn't know anyone, even though-" He tapped his LED, softly lit a bright blue. "-I technically did know everyone. But many people are really quite nice here. Even that guy, Hank, he's just a big softie." He pointed over to where Hank was sitting, at which Hank jokingly called back: "It's Lieutenant Anderson in the office, Connor! And quite ruining my rep!"

"I'm only telling the truth, Lieutenant!" Connor called back, cheerily, before turning back to Robins. "You just need time to assimilate, and you have as long as you need."

[v 8% //STRESS LEVELS]

The tension in their posture was eased away. "Thanks, Connor. It's really nice to hear that." They smiled back. "I look..I look forward to working with you."

"As do I. I'll see you around, Akira." Connor removed his hand from the other's shoulder and waved, casually, as he made his way back to his seat. Akira half-waved back, before their attention was taken by another curious officer.

Hank smacked Connor lightly on the shoulder as he passed. "You had to go around telling the newbie my big secret, eh? Dammit Connor, I expected better of you." He huffed, but Connor could detect the laugh beneath his voice, and the twinkle in his eyes.

"You never told me it was a secret, Hank. That's on you." Hank's slight sputtering of a protest was ignored as Connor sat down, smile never leaving his face. He glanced back at Akira, where they smiled and talked with some of the other people.

[ROBINS **^** ]

* * *

**Gavin, I.**

It was about goddamn _time_ that Fowler hired a techie, in Gavin's opinion. After nearly a week of staring between sickeningly blue terminal and a dim, crappy laptop, he was about ready to tear his own eyes out.

He hunted and found the kid in one of the unused conference rooms, which were so old they lacked cameras and even digital locks. They were unloading their backpack, already surrounded by an assortment of almost surgical looking tools with names Gavin didn't know, and a laptop with a gigantic rectangular metal...something attached to it by a few thin wires. It was enough to make him reconsider whether or not he really wanted this kid's help.

"Yo, kid." Gavin grunted, tapping a knuckle to the side of the wall. Robins jumped and turned, looking more than anything like a spooked cat.

"Oh! Uh...hi?" They squeaked, awkward and unsure. "You're...Gabe, right? Fowler said you had a computer problem."

"It's Gavin. And yeah, the damn thing's been showing me a blue screen for weeks. Come on." It was a little bit cold, but frankly Gavin was too cranky to care. The slowness of the borrowed laptop, combined with the knowledge that nobody could fix his terminal, was enough to wear down his already minimal patience. He headed off into the hallway, only pausing until Robins joined him with possibly-debilitated laptop in their arms before continuing. Thankfully, they didn't try to strike up a conversation.

Calen was standing at the desk, waiting patiently for them. Both Hank and Connor were gone, probably off on a case or whatever. The screen, the bane of his life and probable cause of his early death, glared in his face.

"I hope you weren't touching that." Gavin grunted at Calen, who merely shrugged.

"I am not a fool, Detective. I was only waiting for you."

"Whatever." Turning to Robins: "Can you fix it or what."

Except they were no longer next to him. Robins had materialized at the desk, laptop set up and connected to the terminal by a few wires (procured out of nowhere). On the laptop screen was what Gavin's screen _should_ be looking like, applications, wallpaper and all. The terminal itself did not change.

"Uh-"

"I plugged in the laptop to the terminal and ran a program that lets me see the screen of the computer itself." Robins cut him off, suddenly very different from their previous, shy self. "I'm gonna run a virus-killer to see what's actually making the blue screen, because it seems that the blue screen isn't actually because of a dead computer. It's probably a prank virus."

Gavin could only gape. Calen butted in. "One of our androids, a PY700, attempted to fix it earlier and had to get repaired. Why is that?"

"Did they directly interface with the terminal itself?"

"Yes, they did."

"Then that means-" the anti-virus program on the laptop pinged, revealing two file locations on the small application window. "-there are actually two viruses, the joke one and the anti-android one. Both can be achieved through spam emails"

Gavin frowned. "I don't open any spam emails. I'm not _dense_." He looked at Calen.

Calen looked away.

"Christ, did you...Calen..." Gavin groaned and covered his face with a hand.

"In my defense, you did tell me to sort through your unholy amount of emails."

"Don't twist this and make this my fault, you plastic prick! _You're_ the one that opened the damn emails!"

"If you had adjusted the settings for them to be sorted normally in the first place, perhaps this would not have happened."

"Then why didn't you do that yourself?!"

"Uh-" And both of them looked over at Robins. "In Calen's defense, if you're still using BMail, changing the settings doesn't sort the previous emails..it's poor planning on the company's part, they still need to patch that in."

A flush of embarrassment and anger climbed Gavin's face, and a slightly pleased expression reached Calen's. "I told you." The latter said.

"Shut up." The former retorted.

Robins coughed awkwardly. "In any case, the viruses-the files containing the viruses, they've been deleted. All you need to do is restart the computer and you'll be set."

"Thanks, kid." the detective could only grumble, watching them pack their things. He felt Calen elbow him, and his phone buzz with a message.

(10/13/2039||1:56 pm) RKnuisance says:  _You should apologize._

 

(10/13/2039||1:56 pm): **what why**

 

10/13/2039||1:57 pm) RKnuisance says: _You were quite rude to them when you were requesting their service. It is best to apologize and thank them for it._

Gavin looked up to glare briefly at Calen, who only looked coolly back. Then he looked at the computer screen, now functional and blissfully not blue, and at Robins, who had bundled up all the wires they had brought and tucked the clunky laptop beneath their arm, holding the attachments hanging separately from them.

He sighed. "Hey, I'm...sorry about being an asshat earlier. I was just being really pissy about my computer acting up."

Robins blinked. "Oh! Uh, it's no problem, it's my job after all. Just uh, be careful with your emails and stuff from now on.” But even despite the slight stutter, they look far better then when Gavin had first approached them, much more comfortable. “Um, thanks. I-I mean, thanks for your...apology. I’ll see you around.” Well, maybe not  _ entirely _ comfortable.

"Our new technician is quite...flighty." Calen mused, watching them as they retreat back to the conference room.   


"Yeah, tell me about it" Gavin sat down and moved the mouse, feeling a sort of relief to see everything function normally for the first time in days. "They'll learn, though, did you see how they lit up when they were talking all sciencey? They're like a kid."   


"Indeed." Calen then leans in, whispering in Gavin's ear. "I ought to reward you for handling that well."   


Gavin feels a prickle run up his neck, and a warm blush grow in his face. "Get to work, asshole." He grumbles, shoving Calen away.


	2. The introduction of Robins (Calen, Hank)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akira is me every time i fuck up lmao
> 
> me: writes this increasingly self indulgent fic with a lowkey self insert  
> people: like it  
> me: ohohohohohohohohoho mistake you have made
> 
> im just kidding i love all the people who've kudos-d this so far and are actually enjoying my antics thanks for sticking with!!

**Calen, I.**

It was nearly eleven when Calen and Gavin managed to finish the work that has been delayed by the use of the laptop, a weight being lifted off Gavin's shoulders as they submitted their overdue case reports.

"God, this beats using that shitty 2018 laptop any day, huh." Gavin groaned, stretching luxuriously in his chair. As expected, they were the last people there, aside from the small Roombas that puttered around at night.

"Indeed. It'll certainly ease Fowler off our backs for a while." Calen agreed, getting up from his desk to lean over and turn off Gavin's terminal.

"Well, he's only ever on my back, which is _bullshit_ -" Gavin gets up, unsnagging his jacket from where it hung on his chair and grabbing his keys from his desk. "-because he was the one who told me to use the shitty laptop in the first place, and you've got all your shit in order anyways."

"Hm." Calen hummed, taking pause for a moment. "We should return the laptop, now that you're done abusing it."

The other man only grunted. "We'd do the department a bigger favor by trashing it. And what do you mean, 'abuse'?"

The two of them made their way to the old storage room where Gavin had first dug out the old dinosaur of a machine. "Well, by my count, you had declared it to be a piece of garbage no less then 147 times, called it a bitch 93 times and cursed at it approximately 87 times."

"And it deserved every second of it." The banter continued as they made their way down the corridor, until something- a small, quiet _something_ \- caught Calen's ear, and he lifted a hand to silence the detective.

"Wha-"

"Shh."

_AUDIO INPUT // RECEIVED_

_ANALYZING..._

_ANALYZING..._

[CONCLUSION: AVG HUMAN BREATH RATE FOR SLEEP]

**OBJECTIVE: INVESTIGATE?**

"Do you hear that?" Calen murmurred quirred, turning his head to pinpoint this origin of the sound.

"What the fuck are you talking abou-?" Gavin was shushed again by the raising of Calen's hand.

With slow, purposeful steps, Calen walked towards the door of one of the unused conference rooms, heightening the sensitivity of his audio receptors as he did. Sure enough, someone was behind it, breathing deeply enough for him to pick it up.

_ANALYZING..._

~~**OBJECTIVE COMPLETED** ~~

**NEW OBJECTIVE: CONFRONT SOURCE?**

"There's someone in here." He whispered to Gavin, who shrugged.

"So? It could be a custodian."

"Mr. Davis does not work today, he's visiting his sister in Florida. This could be an intruder" Before Gavin could reply, he swung the door open in a quick, fluid movement, revealing the perpetrator to be-

_SYNC IN PROGRESS//8%_

_ANALYZING//56%_

_ANALYZING//100%_

[ROBINS, AKIRA]  
[BORN 7/14/2020 // GRADUATED 05/06/2038 FROM UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY//I.T WORKER]  
[CRIMINAL RECORD: NONE]

-Akira Robins, the new I.T worker, curled up motionless on the ground near the door.

Gavin pushed past Calen to kneel beside the unconscious body, lightly touching a pair of fingers to their neck before sighing in relief. "They're alive."

"Indeed, they're only sleeping." Calen crouched besides him, placing a hand on Robins's shoulder to shake them gently. "Wake up, Robins."

No response. He lifted his hand, palm open.

Gavin grabbed him before he could move. "Shit! They're just a kid, don't fucking slap them!"

"My analysis states they are nineteen in age, hardly a 'kid'. And I am capable of controlling my strength."

"You barely know them!"

"I actually know them very well, my database states that-"

"You know what I fucking mean!"

A small groan permeated through their bickering. Robins pushed themselves up on an elbow, pushing up their glasses to rub. blearily at their eyes. "Ah, hell... What time is it?" They mumble, squinting at them through sleep-swollen eyes.

Calen lowered his hand. "Around eleven-o-four pm."

That seemed to snap Robins to attention immediately. "Shit!" They scrambled to their feet, rushing to the desk where their slightly hackneyed laptop sat among various repair tools. "Shit, shit, fuck!"

The two men share bemused glances. By Calen's records, this is the most he had ever heard Robins curse. Perhaps even the first time. "Is everything all right, Robins?"

Whatever reply he was expecting was delayed by the rough shoving of the laptop into their cavernous backpack, along with a few wires and cords that were scattered around the table. "N-no, I have to get home! Shit, fuck, shit-!" Their voice was pitched higher by an octave, and breaking within words.

_ANALYZING..._

_HEART RATE: ELEVATED_

_RESPIRATORY RATE: ELEVATED_

[WARNING: 96% // LEVEL OF STRESS]

[CONCLUSION: ANXIETY ATTACK/PANIC ATTACK]

Calen reached forward and placed a hand on their shoulder, catching their attention. "Breathe, Akira. It's going to be alright." He said, soothingly. "What transport method did you intend on using?"

[WARNING: v 89% //LEVEL OF STRESS]

Robins took a few shaky breaths, hands still trembling slightly. Gavin moved to mimic Calen, placing a hand on Robins's other shoulder, looking over with concern. "I-I was supposed to take the bus, but that takes... It takes forty minutes..."

[ **WARNING** : ^ 99% // LEVEL OF STRESS]

"Alright, then let's think of another solution." Calen encouraged, voice still low and gentle. Like calming a skittish horse. "Can you take a taxi?"

They shook their head, reaching up to scrub at their eyes with their sleeve - a common human action for hiding tears, Calen noted. "I-I don't have enough money to pay for one, and I-I-"

"Where do you live, kid." Gavin butted in. "If it's within the city I can probably drop you off, don't worry about it."

[ v 63% // LEVEL OF STRESS]

"R-really?" Gavin nodded, and Calen smiled approvingly over at him."I don't want to...I don't want to impose if it's too out of the way, um-" they rifle around for a bit, digging a phone out of one of dozens of pockets on their coat. "Here...421 Saint-Peter's Road."

They showed the other two a street map, displayed in lines of blue and green. "It's not far from our apartment, just two blocks away." Calen noted, pointing it out to Gavin. "Yeah, we can get there in about ten, fifteen minutes." Gavin agreed, typing the address into his own phone.

"Closer to seventeen minutes."

"Whatever, microwave man."

The casual bickering was more reason to ease the tense atmosphere, as they walked through the empty hallways of the department (laptop forgotten on the floor of Robins's 'office'). Calen watched as Robins smiled, then began to chuckle softly, hiccuping through the aftershock.

[v 27% // LEVEL OF STRESS]

"Thanks...this is-I don't know what to say" They choke out, voice cracking on the final word. An awkward clearing of the throat-another human tic, an action for bypassing uncomfortable situations-"It's...I-"

"It's quite alright, Robins. There's no need to mention it." Calen smiles, holding open the door, a cold snap of wind curling in. "Shall we?"

[^ ROBINS]

.. **o**..

Ten minutes later, they were bundled into Gavin's car, some vague pop rock radio echoing tinnily through the speakers. There was a quiet from all three of them, as they drove steadily in the direction of Robins's house, before Calen decided to say something.

"Ah, Robins." He begins, somewhat stiffly. "If you do not mind me asking, what is the reason behind your need to get home so quickly?"

They chuckle in the backseat, a little embarrassed now that the danger had mostly passed, no less flustered. "Ah-I live with my older brother's ex, roommates, you know. Um...I lost my keys." The last sentence was nearly a whisper, so quiet that Calen's ear almost didn't catch it. "I can't get them replaced until tomorrow, and my roommate leaves for a graveyard shift at eleven-thirty...yeah."

Gavin snorted softly. "Fuck, I know what that's like. Except in college I usually ended up crashing on a friend's couch because my roommate couldn't be bothered to leave a window unlocked."

A real laugh at that, muffled behind a hand. "Oh, rip. I'm looking to find an apartment closer to the station, but I'm still looking for viable roommates that don't have so much... uncomfortable history."

[v 6% // LEVEL OF STRESS]

_Rip?_

"What does...'rip' mean in that context?" Calen interceded, confused. A quick run through of the dictionary database in his head revealed nothing.

"Oh man, seriously?!" Gavin hooted, punching Calen lightly in the shoulder, Akira giggling quietly in the backseat. "Shit, I totally forgot you're less than a year old. Christ, you've got a lot to learn."

"I should show you the Urban Dictionary add-on that's available for androids, that might help" Akira said, a laugh still in their throat. A cursory search revealed the add-on, uninstalled, in his options. "But it might be more fun to learn it without"

Calen hummed in thought, while Gavin chuckled at Akira's suggestion and lifted his hand for a fist bump. "I'll take care of teaching this baby slang, kid. We'll get him cussing in no time."

"I highly doubt that."

"Watch us!" Robins stuck out their tongue, mockingly, before the car rolled to a stop in front of a one-story flat, gold streaming from one of the windows. Both men waved goodbye as they hopped out of the car, rushing over to the door to buzz the doorbell for an inordinate amount of time. They were quickly greeted by a man, who ushered them in and waved back at the car in a "thanks, now get out of here" gesture.

[∆]: ANALYZE?

_ANALYZING..._

_SYNC IN PROGRESS//9%_

_ANALYZING//60%_

_ANALYZING//100%_

[ANDREWS, CASSIUS]

[BORN 8/19/2004 // CYBERLYFE INDUSTRIAL WORKER]

[CRIMINAL RECORD: UNDERAGE DRUG POSSESSION* *SEE: MARIJUANA]

"What're you staring at, tin-man?" Gavin asks, as they pull away from the neighborhood, the light from the house disappearing in the rearview mirror.

"I was identifying their roommate."

"Yeah? Is the guy good? Or do we need to worry about him?"

"The only criminal record he has is marijuana, which is so prevalent now that I doubt he got more then a small fine for it." They were quiet a few moments, streetlights passing overhead, before: "You know, that was the first time."

"First time what?"

"First time you called me 'baby' in front of someone else."

Gavin brakes so hard Calen could feel biocompenents rattle slightly within him, but the look on his face makes it worth it. "You-I-shut the fuck up, it was in context-"

"Hm." They start moving again, and this time Calen waits until they've fully stopped at a red light before saying: "You also told them we lived in the same apartment."

He was spared the sudden stopping, but thankfully, not the sputtering.

* * *

**I, Hank.**

The day started normally enough for Hank.

He woke up at eight o'clock sharp, with the steady drone of the alarm on his phone and the comforting (if not suffocating) weight of Sumo on his chest. The smell of coffee wafted in through the kitchen, indicating that Connor, like usual, was already up and preparing some breakfast for Hank, usually in the form of toast or pancakes.

With a groan, he shoves Sumo off, grumbling. "Get offa me, you big lug..." Sumo pays him no mind as he gets pushed onto the other side of the bed, still snoring peacefully. Stretching, Hank gets up, going through the motions of a morning routine. Ever since he invited Connor to live over in his place, he'd been forced into some semblance of a functional life, now minus the alcoholism and many nights spent passed out on the kitchen floor with an empty bottle of whisky and a mostly-empty revolver by his hands.

For that, at least, he was grateful. For the fact that he now was expected to show up at the office before eleven, he was a little less grateful for that.

He walks into the kitchen, dressed for work in a button-down and slacks. Connor, as usual, is dressed in his usual CyberLyfe issued outfit, despite Hank's many suggestions to wear normal clothes ("I like these clothes, and I hardly ever get them dirty. Besides, I do most of the laundry now, so why are you worrying?" Connor had teased, after Hank once again insisted that he should at least get a normal t-shirt, so Hank would stop feeling homely in comparison.) A plate laden with some waffles, eggs, and bacon sat at the table besides a mug of black coffee. Connor himself is sitting on the opposite side, looking through the news on a tablet.

"Good morning, Hank" He said with a smile, glancing up at his approach. Hank responded with a grunt, sitting down heavily at the table to layer eggs and bacon onto a waffle, topping it off to make a sort of breakfast sandwich. He took a bite, washing it down with a gulp of coffee, before asking. "Whatcha reading?"

"Another article on android students at various colleges and universities. People want diversity, but the fact that androids don't learn as conventionally as humans poses a topic of debate." Connor replied, swiping through the tablet as Hank wolfed down his sandwich. "Hm. Maybe I should ask that new intern about it, they attended college recently."

"Hmph." Hank downed the rest of his coffee, relishing the burn of the bitter liquid. He got up and placed his dishes in the dishwasher, letting it do its thing as he washed his hands. "Kid's flighty like something you wouldn't believe, I'm honestly impressed they even made it through college like that. God knows I wouldn't have." He notes, grabbing his keys and wallet from the counter. "Awful scrawny too. How old did you say they were?"

"Nineteen, and they graduated from University of California. Majored in computer engineering and science." Connor replied, as they stepped outside towards the car. Winter, as always, refused to let go of Detroit, a particularly spiteful cold snap frosting the grass beneath their feet and the door handles of Hank's car. He shuddered slightly at it. Connor didn't.

"Nineteen? Kid's a super genius, no wonder Fowler hired them. I woulda thought they were a middle-schooler who lost their parents." Hank chuckled, and Connor did the same. God, fuckin' middle schoolers. Hank found them to be a straight pain in the ass, remembering all the times he'd chased them away from a crime scene and the one ( _one_ ) time he got called on to give a drug and safety assembly to a local school. It hadn't ended well.

They drive through the streets of Detroit, soft music playing from the speakers. It was an agreement between him and Connor for Connor to play his choice in the morning, and Hank to play his choice when they left to go home. Today it was classical, some age-old piano piece by Mozart drifting through the car. It was a really nice day today, ignoring the temperature. The sun, a rare sight, showed itself to melt some of the ice gracing the sidewalks and trees. Peaceful.

Then his partner grabbed his elbow, nearly jerking them off the street. "Gah! Connor, what the fuck!"

"Ah, sorry Lieut-Hank. But isn't that...Robins?" Hank squinted in the direction where Connor pointed, and sure enough a small figure was running pell-mell through the streets, occasionally stumbling on ice. He could barely recognize them through the large hood of of their coat, but the glint of sun on large circular spectacles and the big ass backpack they carried was enough of an indicator.

As they watched, Robins sped up, just barely making it to a bus stop where a bus was currently pulling away. They stop, hands on knees, panting furiously as they stare at the departing vehicle. Hank pulls up next to them.

"Personal vehicle detected: Please remove yourselves from the bus parking area. Person-"

"Ah, shut up." Hank grunted at the automatic voice that chimed in. "I'll be gone in a moment. Hey kid-" And Robins straightened up, facing him. "Need a ride?"

He could practically see the relief gush from them, as they smiled and nodded. "Y-yeah, I think...you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be? It's a big enough car, get in. Hope you don't mind old-people smell." 

"Gross, Lieutenant." They snort, but they clamber into the backseat nonetheless. Hank had half the mind to be grateful that Connor had helped him clean it up, considering how only a week before the backseat was filled with garbage. They're wearing the same gigantic coat and yarn hat from yesterday-in fact a lot of what they're wearing is similar to yesterday, aside from their pants, having changed from dark slacks to skinny-jeans. Hank is struck by how much they looked like a kid on their way to school-he probably would've assumed that if he didn't know them.

As they drive through the streets of Detroit, maneuvering around the morning traffic, Hank tries to make small talk, as best as he could. "So. What's with missing the bus, kid? You look like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"I believe the term is, 'get up on the wrong side of the bed' Hank." Connor quips, and Hank flicks his forehead.

"You know what I mean, Connor."

Robins chuckled, pulling off their hat. Their hair-short and black and wild-seems to spring up beneath it, as they run fingers through it in an attempt to tame it. "I got home later than I expected, and went to bed later than expected, so...I slept through my alarm." They shrug, face pinked more in embarrassment then overexertion.

"Rest in pieces, kid. But you do realize you don't need to get to work so early? Has Fowler even given you an official schedule yet?"

"Uh, no. But I wanted to get there on time, first day of work and all that, you know...kinda messed up on that already, clearly."

"Hank, I think the term you meant was 'rest in peace', though why you would say that at Akira is strange." Connor noted, light going yellow in bewilderment.

This incited giggling from the backseat and a laugh from Hank, who pokes Connor in the temple. "Ah, shit, you've got a lot to learn kid. Almost forgot you were barely a year old."

"And yet, I still manage to be more mature then you."

"Hey!"

Robins paused in their laughing, leaning slightly forward between the two men. "Is everyone-is everyone at Detroit this...um. I forgot the word for it."

"Sit down kid, and fix your seatbelt. I'm still a cop." Hank said first, watching them comply sheepishly in the rearview window "And is the word you're looking for 'annoying?'" Hank offered.

"Casual?" Connor interjected.

"Closer to the second one. I think...friendly? Comfortable with each other?"

Hank tapped his fingers on the wheel, considering. He certainly was a lot more open after Connor's arrival, and the newly deviated androids that still worked at the station helped liven things up significantly. "I think I'm gonna need more context, kid."

"Well, last night I caught a ride home with Gavin and Calen-"

Gavin? Giving out rides to coworkers? That was new, considering his bitchy and closed-off personality. "You sure we're thinking about the same Gavin?"

"Uh, yeah. I fixed his terminal yesterday, and then sort of...passed out in the confer-the I.T office. He and Calen found me, and he offered me a ride. It was nice of him."

A flash of yellow in the passenger-side window caught Hank's eye-Connor's little mood ring was cycling gold, and he was looking confused. "Did you live out of the way of Gavin's house?" He asked

Robins shifted in their seat, fingers twisting in their hat. "No...I actually live a few blocks away from them, apparently."

"Them??"

And now Hank got what Connor was so surprised about-Robins had said "Them". They'd also said "I caught a ride home with Gavin  _and_ Calen"

A slow grin was spreading over his face.  _Android-hater, my ass._ "Looks like Gavin is a lot friendlier then I thought."

Now it was Akira's turn to look confused. "Did I..say something weird? How is Gavin usually?"

"Nah, nah. Forget about it. Look, we're here." They pulled into a parking lot behind the Detroit Police Department building, Hank beeping his car doors locked after they all stepped out. He wasn't quite qualified for reserved parking privileges yet (though Connor had joked numerous times that he could probably get away with it, considering his hair and overall appearance) but being one of the oldest workers in the force had its perks, including reserved parking closest to the entrance.

"Where even is your office? The old I.T one got renovated into an Android charging station last time I checked." Hank asked. The old office, which had been on the first floor where police business happened, got repurposed not long after the revolution and the leaving of the last I.T guy, who was supposedly hiding in Jamaica from a Red Ice mafia group.

"Oh, uh. Fowler assigned me this old conference room downstairs, it's just about underneath the holding cells. I need to get the chairs and stuff out and move my tools and stuff in, that's why I wanted to show up early today."

"How many tools can fixing a terminal take?"

"A lot, actually! And I'm technically qualified to work on a lot more than computers, like some of the hardware here, so I'm bringing in some stuff for that too. And some of it is getting sent in by delivery people cuz it's so big, and I need to plan out space for that..." They trail off in the middle of their excited spiel, suddenly going shy again. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

"Nah, you're good kid. We all got our vices." It was almost endearing, watching them get so passionate about something. Somewhat reminiscent of Connor whenever he learned something new, somewhat reminiscent of Cole whenever he had done something to be proud of, like a good sticker on a quiz or a paper airplane that flew without crashing. The thought twinged in his chest-he wasn't ready to be feeling this emotional do early in the morning over this...kid he barely knew. Too much hanging out with Connor was making him sappy. "If you ever need helping moving stuff, you can come up and ask for us." He placed a hand on their head, ruffling their hair affectionately.

"Gih-thanks, Mister-lieutenant Anderson." They squeaked at the contact, a somewhat chagrined and disheveled smile on their face. "You're just a big softy as Connor said, huh?"

"Hey, don't make me revoke my offer!" He said with mock offense. But they had already scurried off, laughing and waving at him over a shoulder as they went. "Dammit Connor, you've already ruined my reputation." He grunts, smiling.

Connor just grins a shiteating grin back. "Statistically speaking, there was a 94% chance they would've found out anyways. "

He might be right, but that didn't mean Hank was going to accept it outright. "Ah, shut it. Come on, we got work to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sh-akira sh-akira
> 
> *dabs* i am living for big bro r.k and slightly resentful big bro gavin
> 
> also Hank Anderson is an accidental dad
> 
> I'm editing this later, hope y'all like it


	3. Charms and Cheerios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor asks a question. Gavin gets offered a snack.

**Connor, II.**

Connors notices something curious about Robins's backpack.

_ANALYZING..._

_NEWSPORT NAVY BACKPACK 4208_

_28% COTTON 28% NYLON 40% CANVAS 3% LINEN 1% VARIOUS DYES_

In itself, the backpack is not unusual. It is a dark, navy blue, with black zippers that have red ribbons tied to them. Three pockets, two large ones meant for books and tablets and one small one meant for pocket devices and writing instruments, and a small mesh pouch on the side of it that sometimes holds a plastic water bottle. Utilitarian, simple, almost minimalist in aesthetic.

No, what Connor notices is what he can't analyze thoroughly, specifically what adorns the backpack.

There's a large amount of keychains and charms hanging from the zippers, along with badges and pins that are scattered haphazardly across the blue. They're all colorful, raucous, additions that might not have been intended to be there but have found a home there nonetheless. Each time Robins passes his desk with a wave and small greeting, he takes note a different item-the stuffed lion that hangs from the top zipper, the circular pin striped with green, white, and purple on bottom corner, the sapphire-blue cloth patch that is decorated with a large white diamond, surrounded by small stars and circles of every color. An imitation of the NASA logo, a reference he can't quite understand.

He's unaware that he's staring until Hank points it out one morning, shortly after they arrived. Robins is talking to Officer Chen about something, and he's observing a charm in the shape of a carved wooden owl dangling from a zipper. Hank pokes him from across his desk.

"Connor, the hell are you staring at?"

Connor jumps, surprised and suitably embarrassed. "Sorry, Lieutenant. I was just...I was looking at Akira's backpack." He admits. Akira, thankfully, does not notice. "There's just an...surprising amount of decor on it that I am not used to."

The Lieutenant snorts in response. "Oh yeah, forgot that that's a thing. Yeah, a pretty big chunk of younger people do that. Decorate their backpacks. I wasn't aware that they still did it though."

Connor shakes his head, LED cycling yellow. "Wouldn't that be counteractive? From what I can tell, they carry enough weight inside their bag already. Why the additional weight with the ornaments?"

"Why don't you ask them? They're right there."

And Connor ponders that for a moment. He could ask, and considering what he knew about them he doubted they would be offended by it. But they're not exactly like the other androids at Jericho, with whom Connor could just interface with to communicate something, or even the other people at the precinct. The other officers here are human, but they are also adults, and Connor was designed to work with mostly adults. And even if Akira was nineteen and hardly a child, their behavior and personality contradicted that. It didn't help that their size and stature reinforced the fact that they were younger and naive.

His thinking does not escape the ever watchful eye of Hank, who sighs and apparently decides to take initiative for Connor. Before he could even consider stopping him, Hank waves at Akira, calling their attention.

"Hey kid! Come here a sec."

Robins starts at the call, glances around for a moment (as if there was anyone else Hank had ever remotely referred to as 'kid', Connor reflected) and walks over in their usual fashion, careful and balanced on the balls of their feet, as if they would need to run at any moment.

"Hi, Mister- Lieutenant Anderson, what's up?" They've grown significantly more at ease in the few days that they've been here, the stutters mostly gone from their speech. They were far less prone to blushing fits, and even found the ability to tease others occasionally.

"Nothing much, except Connor here wants to ask you something." And just like that, Hank has transferred the conversation over to Connor-wholy unprepared for it.

"Oh, uh..." Now it was his turn to stammer, being caught off guard. Nearby, Gavin snickers softly, earning a glare from Hank. Robins has not yet moved, head tilted slightly.

_ANALYZING..._

A list of options popped up in Connor's vision as he calculated the statistics within a fraction of a second, the world seeming to slow around him.

[∆]: CASUAL

[❑]: INTERROGATIVE

[O]: FORMAL

[X]: DO NOTHING

Connor cursed-the residue of his CyberLyfe programming was apparently useless in this situation, as he blinked the options away. The obvious choice was "casual", but then again what defined casual in this situation?

 _Just...think._ Robins was, in the end, human. Different from any one he'd ever dealt with, but still human. To ponder so much over this was preposterous-the best way to react was as a human, as they would.

"Akira, I noticed...There's a lot of charms and such on your backpack. Can I ask why?" He finally burst out suddenly, and Akira blinked in surprise. He had been too sudden, and his LED cycled to red in a panic. The fact that this was as difficult as it was was inconceivable to Connor.

"Oh, it's just something I like to do." Akira shrugs, and Connor felt relieved. "A lot of these were gifts from my friends, and some of them were things I bought to remind me of things I liked and stuff. It's a little pointless, and I know it looks a little silly, but...they make me feel happy." They added on, a little defensively.

Connor nods slowly, processing. "Can I-Can I ask what this one means?" He points to a small white pin residing near the edge of the middle pocket. It was round, featuring two letters, OW written in simple black font.

"That's a pin showing the logo of a music group I really like." They say, touching it slightly. "It stands for Oh Wonder, and it's a couple who sing music together. What they sing is a little vague and abstract, but it's nice to listen to and it's soothing."

"And this one?" Connor points to the one he had seen earlier, the small stuffed lion that hangs from a bit of nylon string tied to a plastic clip. It's clearly old, the fur off-colored from numerous washings and the button eyes being slightly scratched.

"A gift from my friend before we left for college. I gave her a similar one that was a wolf, and she gave me a lion." They smile at it.

Interesting. Connor reached out and touched the lion gently, almost petting it before he came to his senses. It was an inanimate toy, not a real creature that sought contact like Sumo would. He retracted his hand, apologetic and somewhat mortified.

"I've kept you long enough, I should get back to work. But thank you for telling me these things, Akira." He said, and Akira just smiled and walked off, backpack slung over their shoulder. Hank looked over and nodded approvingly, and the two of them fell in on their business again. The whole time, Connor couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he'd done something wrong, being a stranger and touching Akira's gift from a close friend, without asking. The thought took up a percentage of his processing space the whole time as he went about his day. For all the intensive programming granted him by CyberLyfe, all the preparation and engineering dedicated to him for his job, Akira was still a bit of a mystery to him, acting casual sometimes and guarded other times.

He was still worried about the next day until Akira came to his desk, holding a similar stuffed toy in the form of a small dog, resembling a golden retriever, and handed it to Connor. "I know you don't have to start up a whole little collection like me," Akira began, shyly. "But I thought you might like to have this anyways. It's not a lion, but-"

Whatever they were about to say was cut off as Connor did something on...instinct. No thinking involved, no calculations. He leaned forward and hugged them loosely, before he could reconsider the outcome. Akira stiffens for a brief, somehow terrifying moment, before easing and returning the gesture with one arm.

Holding the toy in one hand, he pulled away. "I love it." Connor said, voice somewhat hushed. It wasn't anything extraordinary, the toy-analyzing it showed it to be a simple thing, quite cheap and common. But it was one of the few rare things that had ever been gifted to Connor, simply for being an item with _no specific_ _purpose_. He was invited to live with Hank because he owned no property himself, he was given clothes also by Hank when his standard issued outfit got dirty or torn. But this little dog served no purpose other that it might make him happy.

Akira seemed stunned, before grinning widely. "Oh-I'm glad to hear that! I wasn't sure as to what animal you would like, but the dog seemed like a safe bet-and you can name it too, though that's just sort of a..it's optional, but it makes it feel like it's kind of a real animal? Or at least, it makes it feel more special...it's a silly concept but I've named some of my things, just for fun..." They trail off, losing whatever thought they had been using as they scramble to patch it up. "Um, I'm gonna go down now, uh. I'll see you later!"

Connor waves them goodbye as they leave, still cradling the toy in a hand. Hank looks over, wearing an expression that's somewhat exasperated and also amused. "So, you gonna name it?" He says, only half jokingly.

Whatever answer Connor wanted to give was delayed as he placed the small dog by the stand of his terminal, where it stared back with shiny black eyes. He ran through a database, thinking. "I'm going to call it Frankie."  He finally declared, inciting a small snort from Hank.

"Some name for a dog. Why Frankie?"

"After the pug in the first Men In Black, which first debuted in 1977 and featured Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith, about two special government agents meant to protect alien interference from the public." He paused, watching Hank's expression with a grin forming on his own face. "Also because he looks like a Franklin."

"...Connor, what the fuck."

* * *

**Gavin, II.**

Gavin was angry, tired, and most importantly,  _hungry_.

He'd been called out in the middle of his goddamn lunch break to go to a crime murder scene, at which point everything had quickly devolved into chasing a suspect through some alleyways and the middle of a street, to apprehending a group of perps hiding out in a nearby building, an even that nearly ended in a shootout. Even so, there were several new scars to go with the one on his face, and his knuckles stung painfully, even though Calen had assured him they were only bruised and not broken.

And most importantly, he had not eaten since he'd gotten there at around nine am, and the most he'd had since then was some coffee. He'd had a pop tart sitting in the pantry of the break room, but it had vanished before he could get to it, another contribution to his shitty mood.

Calen, of course, didn't get hungry. He was as unphased by the event as if it had never happened, the most that had gotten on him being some dirt on his stupid white jacket. He'd offered that they stop at a restaurant on the way to the department, but Gavin was pissy and exhausted and just wanted to hurry up and get this shit over with so he could go home.

Which was how he found himself sitting as his desk, staring at the case report on his screen with a scowl, trying to fight back the gurgle that crawled in his stomach. Calen was interrogating downstairs, and was being monitored by Chris, so the best thing Gavin could do was finish up this fucking report while his partner dragged some information out of the suspect.

It sucked. Everything today sucked. His stomach gave one more impatient growl, and he pushed away from the desk. He wasn't going to be able to edit like this, not with such a distraction coming from his gut. Fuck this.

He looked around, hoping that maybe Chen or even Anderson would be willing enough to help read it over for him so he could be done with it, but Chen was out at a different scene and Anderson had already left. Another bitter knot twisted itself into existence.

He was so busy stewing in his own anger that he barely noticed the rattling approach of Robins, who stepped behind him to peer over his shoulder.

"What do you want, kid." He grunted, not turning to face them. A hand, holding a tupperware container of...something, reached past his face, shaking gently.

"Want some Cheerios?" Akira asked, offering them. "You seem like you need a break."

Gavin hadn't had Cheerios in...god, it felt like forever. He accepted the container, cracking off the blue lid and taking one of the small circular crackers in his hand, rolling it slightly between his fingers. It felt sticky with honey, and his stomach gave a betraying groan. He popped it in his mouth, tasting the almost nostalgic sugar-and-wheat.

"Thanks, kid." He sighs, and Akira nods and hands him a small plastic spoon in a wrapper, which he opens one handed by stabbing it against his leg, breaking the handle free from the clear plastic. "Don't think I can ask you to edit this case report for me, too?"

"I don't think I'm qualified to do that, Detective Reed. I'm an I.T worker, not a cop."

"You don't need to be a cop, kid. Just grammar and all that shit."

They consider it for a moment, before pulling over the chair from Calen's desk to sit in front of Gavin's terminal, making a shooing motion to move him out the way. "Sure, I'm in no rush."

He hadn't counted on them actually doing it, and he swallows a dry mouthful of cereal. "I-shit, sure. I was kidding, but I'm not about to say no if it's not too big a deal." Well, half kidding anyways.

"It's not. Here, scoot."

Gavin watched them work in silence for a few minutes, munching the whole time. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had any kind of cereal-his breakfast was comprised mostly of donuts and toast nowadays, occasionally some eggs and bacon when Calen felt like cooking. The earliest memory he had eating this was in...god, maybe in grade school, eating it during snack time as the teacher read some kiddy novel to them.  _Bunnicula_ , he remembered, one of the first mystery stories he'd ever heard that really got him interested into puzzles and logic problems.

Fuck, was he reminiscing about a story about a vampire rabbit? It really had been a long day.

"Why Cheerios?" He asked, for the sake of filling the silence, as he watched their fingers fly nimbly over the board, clicking away.

They don't immediately respond, focused on the screen in front of them. Gavin could see red squiggly lines reflected in their glasses. "Why not?"

"I...Who carries a container of Cheerios around at this point in the evening?"

"I do, clearly. Apparently." They grin, and Gavin is horribly reminded of that one emoticon resembling a grinning cat-lipped face, of which he had seen (and probably used) far more then necessary in his juvenile years. "I was intending to eat it for breakfast, but I forgot I had it. I had a pop tart from the break room."

Something dawns on Gavin.

"Was it...Christ. Was it a cinnamon pop tart?"

And something dawns on Akira's face as well, and Gavin watches them flatten their mouth into a stiff line in an attempt to remain neutral. "Maybe..."

Gavin's almost- _almost_ -tempted to yell at them. Even so, a deep sense of exasperation settles on him, similar to when he found out the source of his computer viruses a little while ago. "Why would you do that. I'm so wounded, Akira, I fuckin' trusted you."

They smile sheepishly, trying to look abashed. "You didn't write your name on it, and it was in the pantry, so that makes it free game. I don't make the rules, that's as natural as rain."

He sighs, pulls out his phone to open up the weather app. "Speaking of rain, by today's forecast, we can clearly see...that  _somebody_." He glares at Akira. "Got me  _fucked. Up._ "

A sputter, somehow mixed with a snort of indignation and a huff of laughter, somehow comes out of their mouth. "Pfft-Gavin oh my  _god-_ you did not just... _christ._ "

Gavin lets himself enjoy the moment, smirking. "You owe me a drink now, at least."

"First of all, I can't even buy alcohol, I'm nineteen. Secondly, I just gave you? My Cheerios? My delicious dry oat circles? Thirdly, one stale poptart does not equivocate to a drink, not even a soda.” They pause to take a breath. “Also! Also. How did you spell 'schizophrenia' right but 'ammo' wrong?"

He nearly choked on his mouthful of dry oat circles. "I didn't!"

"You absolutely did?? You spelled it 'A-M-O-O'."

He looks over-and apparently, he did. "I have no fucking clue, did you sabotage me?"

"Why would I do that? I am offended you would imply such a thing." But they're laughing, shoving Gavin lightly in the shoulder. "I'm done, anyways. It's more or less good now, if you wanna take a final look."

Gavin shoves back, a laugh bubbling in his throat. "I'm trusting your judgement on this, so nah. Let's send it to Fowler."

"That’s...A horrible idea, really." They replace the chair, just as Calen comes up the elevator. "I should be heading home, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure, sure. Thanks for the food, kid."

"Don't mention it, I hate Cheerios." They say with a grin, before turning on their heel to dash out of the building, backpack rattling with every step.

Calen joins him just as he hits 'send'. "I see you've befriended Akira. An impressive feat, considering your personality." He muses, watching their departure. Gavin snorts.

"I'm plenty likable, you asshole." But he's grinning. The container of cereal is by now, mostly empty, so he covers it and shoves it into his backpack with a mental note to return it later. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor: i'm gonna give him happiness and a stuffed toy because that's what my beautiful boy fucking deserves  
> gavin: here wax poetic about some cereal lmao
> 
> i dont have a concrete timeline for this lmao just roll with it
> 
> Oh wonder is really a good music group i absolutely adore their songs (current fave: drive and lose it. honestly, check them out, it's worth the time)
> 
> :3 Akira was making this face That my friends hate watching me do
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6yGfEsYvjQ the classic underappreciated vine that gavin referenced
> 
> It's one buttfucking am I'm conking out enjoy
> 
> As always edits will be done later


	4. Pliers, and the first time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shootout requires some impromptu help. Gavin does more yelling. Akira tries their best. Calen learns a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got these....these f e e l i n g s for Reed and RK900.
> 
> This one came off a little rougher than I would've liked but you know what? That's okay, because sometimes you just need to write for yourself to find your rhythm.
> 
> There's no set timeline for this btw

**Calen, II.**

The bullet hadn't gone deep enough to puncture any important bio-components, which was good. But it was too deep for even Connor's dexterous fingers to fish out, which was not ideal.

Calen sat in the open backseat of a police cruiser, shirt peeled away from the exposed wires and tubing in his shoulder, while Connor before him attempted to pull out the bullet with eyes furrowed in concentration. Statistically, Calen could not feel pain-and yet the constant error messages that flashed in the corner of his vision was probably just as irritating.

The bullet shifts, and for a brief moment so it feels like Connor got it. Then his fingers slip on thirium, and lodges the bullet sideways. Decreasing the already-small probability of getting it out by the end of the hour by another ten percent.

Connor exhales deeply, almost a sigh. Calen feels his brow crease in a frown. "Just leave it. We need to return to the station." He says, readjusting his shirt and draping his jacket over his shoulders. Aside from the ragged hole and stains of blue on white, you could hardly tell the injury was there in the first place.

His predecessor brother just hums in distaste. "Don't move your arm in the meantime, we don't want it to go deeper." Then: "Gavin will not be pleased."

"He hardly ever is." And sure enough, Gavin stalks over from the scene, a nasty cut above his forehead an angry pink, with rivulets of blue and red dripping from his bruised knuckles. The perpetrators had been dealt with, but that hadn't stopped Gavin from landing a few extra punches, despite Calen's one armed attempted to restrain him.

"You are-" And he jabs a finger against Calen's collarbone. "-A fucking idiot."

"An idiot that saved your life." Calen noted, even as he predicted the probable response Gavin would have. Connor must have expected the same thing, as he made his departure with a pointed look at the both of them.

"An idiot with a fucking bullet in his shoulder. Did Connor get that out?"

And now it was Calen's turn to sigh. "Unfortunately, no. We should return to the station where better tools are available."

He watches as Gavin groans, kicks a bit of gravel on the asphalt. "I told these motherfuckers to bring an Android repair kit, you'd think by now that'd just be a given. Motherfuckers." He repeats, bitterly, and Calen reaches out with his undamaged arm to pull him into a hug.

"Oh no, don't try to hug your way out of this, you plastic prick. Don't you dare pull that stunt again, you hear me? I swear to shit, you're gonna give me a fucking heart attack. Stupid asshole." But there's less of a scowl on his face and tears glimmer beneath eyelids. "I could've lost you."

Calen blinks. This was an unexpected reaction-one that he was fully unprepared for. "I know. I'm sorry." As Gavin returns the hug with fingers that dig into the back of his jacket.

When he pulls away, it's reluctant and his hand stays resting on Calen's forearm. His other arm goes to cover his eyes. "Just...fucking shit. Let's go back, okay? Just. Let's go."

"Of course."

**...o...**

"What the hell happened to _you_ two?"

Akira greets them with wide eyes, the wrench in their hands half drooping from their grip and attention wrenched from their previous project, an old gutted computer. Caleb supposed they must look quite battered, what with the plaster bandages on Gavin's cheek and forehead and the makeshift sling Calen has his arm in (courtesy of one of the onelookers, an old woman who'd pulled the hankerchief from her neck to offer it to him and promptly pulled another copy from her purse when he protested). A bag of blue blood is held in his other hand, as he takes cursory sips from it.

"Work happened. Can you patch this microwave up?" Gavin grunts, jerking a thumb at him, and Calen risks a brief use of his damaged servos to flip him off.

"I...Cripes, okay. Um, can you sit there?" They point to an old office chair, that they wheel over to in their own roller chair, boosting the seat up slightly to untie the paisley scarf from him. "Can you run a diagnostics and tell me what damages there are?"

"Biocomponents #B214, #C998, have suffered blunt damage that I can self repair with the removal of the bullet. But until then, they are continuing to leak thirium."

"Hm. What about unit #B421? Has that failed to dislodge the bullet?"

"It is just out of reach for #B421 to be functional. It requires manual removal." He shifts in his seat, as Robins withdraws a magnifying glass to examine the wound. One brown eye blinks owlishly through it as they pull back to grab a small pick, similar to that of a dentist's.

When they move to probe at the damage, Gavin, who had been quiet off to the side, jumps forward. "Hey!"

The metal point stops an inch from the edge of the hole. "What?"

"Is that...You can't just...I don't know. Rig him up to a computer? Scan him? Is the toothpick necessary?" He's flustered, hands moving animatedly.

ANALYZING...

[^65% STRESS LEVELS]

"Calen is an RK900 and, like, the only one of him. I don't even know if he's compatible with my laptop, I don't wanna take that risk of getting malware in his system." They shrug apologetically. "And I don't have the equipment to scan him with, I haven't got Terminator glasses. I promise I'm not going to damage him."

"Shit. It won't hurt him?"

"I just took a bullet for you, Detective. It's not in my programming to hurt." Calen notes, smiling slightly. It was almost adorable, how worried Gavin was getting.

"Well fuck me for being concerned! Shit, it's not like you're the only one left of you, you can't just pop into CyberLyfe and get reanimated in a brand new body, so fuck me for trying to care!" And now there are real tears on his face, that familiar fury permeated by crying. The smile slips from Calen's face, only to be replaced by a deep, resounding...hm. He'd never experienced this in his deviancy before, a heavy sense of unfulfilled expectations and bitterness. Regret? Guilt? "Just because you're a fucking android doesn't me you're fucking invincible, so just...just stop doing dumb shit for me, okay? I'm tired of watching you get bullets dragged out of you."

Choices for what he could say was ignored, the options blinked away from his vision as he reached forward with his good hand and grasped one of Gavin's, feeling how the other man's fingers tightened and intertwined with his. Cursing himself inwardly-when did he get so careless? Ignoring all the warning signs and letting this happen- he brought the hand up and pressed it to his face, placing a gentle kiss against the palm. Gavin tenses against him, before relaxing.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, and some phantom pain bursts in his chest at how Gavin seems to fold over like a withered flower, a fresh wave of barely-controlled sobs wracking his entire frame as he presses his face against Calen's shoulder. "I...I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry Gavin."

They're quiet for a moment, Calen holding Gavin against him until the last tremors have left him, and he pulls away with a sigh. "Let's just get this over with. Akira?"

They turn, and Akira is sitting awkwardly in their roller chair, the pair of pliers in their hands with the blue-stained bullet pinched in it. A red flush colors their cheeks, as they stare back with a mostly neutral expression.

ANALYZING...

[^ 55% // LEVELS OF STRESS]

"I took out the bullet while you guys were...making up." They say, quietly. " M'sorry."

Calen may not have been built for human interaction, but he knew enough to guess that he had messed up somewhere for this situation to come to hand. For all his fancy analytical abilities, he'd failed to acknowledge Akira the whole time, and how they would feel about it-thought that was not his fault entirely, nor was it Gavin, nor was it even Akira's..."Don't apologize." He said, rolling his shoulder experimentally. The intruding metal was now gone, as were the constant warning messages and movement restrictions. The self-repair functions were already doing their jobs, mending the torn plastic and synthetic skin. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Their mouth tightens in a thin line. "I was kinda intruding."

Calen opens his mouth to say some condolence, some reassurance, but Gavin beat him to it. "Stop it."

Akira blinks. "What?"

"Stop apologizing. You keep acting like you're a nuisance." Gavin steps forward, one hand staying in Calen's. "You're not, okay? So...stop."

"I-"

"You dealt with our arguing and shit while dragging a fucking bullet out of this asshole's shoulder. Don't fucking apologize." He takes a deep breath, grips Robins's shoulder tightly. "You did your best. And everything turned out fine."

Calen nods, taking the pliers from Robins's slack hands and inspecting the bullet for a moment. "Listen. You helped me, so thank you." He murmurs, and watches them blink, a little overwhelmed by the sudden change in tone. "But please, as Gavin said. Don't ever apologize for helping another person."

They stutter for a few moments, then pause, trying to find words. "I...Okay. Uh, can I ask a question then?" And they register Gavin's affirming grunt and Calen's encouraging smile. "Are-Are you two...?"

"Yes. Yes, we are." Calen answers.

"Oh, okay. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." They add on quickly, as Gavin opens their mouth. "No one else seems to know, and you guys don't really act obviously affectionate in public, so..." They pause. "I'm happy for you two."

There's a brief silence following those words, with Akira getting increasingly anxious (as their stress levels indicated) and Gavin with an open mouth. Calen decides to take initiative and talk, handing back the pair of pliers as he did so. The bullet, small and misshapen and still stained blue, remains in his palm.

"Thank you, Akira. That means a lot." And they finally smile, a real smile, albeit slightly awkward and somewhat blurred by tears that were barely concealed. Accepting the pliers, taking a corner of their apron and wiping it clean. Looking down and away, a half-attempt to hide their face and the years that did escape.

"That's the first time you called me by my name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also you know that feeling when you're third wheeling and the couple starts arguing? That's me. And now it's Akira.
> 
> Akira handled this situation better than me, I literally went to the bathroom of an italian restaurant to scarf my breadsticks when my roommate started arguing with the asshole of a date that had tagged along. I stayed there for ten minutes until I heard them leave, had to take an Uber home. Everything smelled like breadsticks for like an hour.
> 
> Names are important, so they pop up a lot throughout these short stories.
> 
> I burnt myself out writing chapter two of Stone Eyed Sinner too fast, I'm taking a short break from it and taking time to crank out some other short writing bits instead, including some more little things for Akira and their gang. I just *clenches fist* love these gays so much.


	5. Binders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin only knows that feeling too well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never actually had a binder (always wanted one tho) so if this seems a little off i apologize
> 
> There's this thing I see in high schools among the gay kids where they adopt one another. For example, I have two trans sons and a lesbian aunt, a bi mom and a gay champagne uncle. So of course I'm going to bring it over here into this fic.
> 
> David Cage might be an irresponsible sloppy hack of a writer with undeserved credit in writing but I've made his characters queer so ha ha ha

**Gavin, III.**

When Gavin heard grunts coming from the bathroom, he tried not to assume the worst.

Each stall was empty except for the first, from which he heard small hisses and huffs. He just needed to wash his goddamn hands after lunch, for fuck's sake-he really didn't need to hear this fit of constipation/fucking/vomiting today. And who the fuck in their right mind would even do that? And at  _work_ , of all places.

(Well-remembering the things that he and Calen had gotten up to at the start of their partnership-he didn't really have the space to judge)

But these were getting progressively louder, and kinda desperate-he shuddered, feeling his day in the process of getting ruined. Pushing away any thoughts in his head, he rapped on the stall door, earning a sharp yelp from whoever was inside.

"Hey, what the fuck? You gotta do that shit here?" He grunts, not particularly caring about who he was probably scaring the hell out of.

"...Gavin?"

The small voice of Robins reached him, and suddenly he felt as if he had fucked up very badly. Scratch that, he did suddenly care. "...Robins?"

"...yeah."

 _Oh shit oh shitohshitohshitwhatthefuck_. With a deep breath, he steadied himself. "Is everything...good?"

"I'm kinda....stuck." And they tack on, panicked, when Gavin sighed heavily. "Not-not in any way that's bad! Or gross, or....yeah. I just...my binder...."

Oh.

_Oh._

Gavin must have gone quiet for a few moments as he processed this, because he gets a little impatient huff from Akira, joined by the slightly shaky mumble of: "Yeah, I know. Just...forget it-"

"No! No, no, it's just." Gavin sighs, running a hand down his face. God, what kind of deja vu was this. "I've dealt with the same shit before. Do you need help?"

They don't reply, but after a brief pause the door of the stall gets unlocked, and Gavin slowly eases it open. Akira is standing with their back to him, a black binder rucked up and scrunched uncomfortably beneath their shoulders. Their arms are lifted slightly because of it.

He can't help it-he snorts slightly, and earns a harsh scowl from over Akira's shoulder.

"Asshole."

"Sorry, sorry. Shit, okay. Hold still."

Carefully, focusing on some long-faded graffiti on the wall behind the toilet, he rolls down the binder back to its usual position, feeling the sleek nylon across his fingers, invoking a strange nostalgia. Then he moves Akira's hands so that they're crossed over their chest and gripping the fabric at their sides, just below the ribcage. Gripping the edge of the binder. "So, what you're gonna do is you're gonna pull upwards and slide it out from over your head. Like you're a hot guy taking off a shirt in a shitty chick flick. It'll hurt like a motherfucker at first, but you'll be fine." He moves his hand next to their ear, hesitating. "D'you-do you want me to take off your glasses?"

"Please." They grumble back, and at that he plucks them from their nose before facing upwards, watching how the light above them buzzed softly, as Akira follows his instructions. Slowly, they tug the material up and off of their torso, and from the edge of his vision be can see them get it stuck on their head briefly, before it comes off with another forceful pull and a slight 'pop', leaving their hair an absolute wild mess that sticks in every direction. He stifled a chuckle, earning a light elbow to his abdomen.

They snatch their t-shirt from where it lay on the toilet seat cover, a black cotton thing that boasts the logo of some old sci-fi series (Star Wars, Gavin notes, and he almost snorts at the memory of robe-clad people swinging glow-sticks at each other on his childhood tv screen), pulling it on so quickly and violently Gavin thought they might tear it.

It's...painfully familiar, the whole scenario-replace a bathroom with a locker room, Gavin with his old high school best friend and Akira with his seventeen-year-old self...Gavin feels something in his heart ache. Or maybe that's his ribs twinging at the memory.

"Better?"

Akira sighs deeply, rolling their shoulders back. "Yeah, thanks." They accept their glasses, carefully putting them back on, their binder hanging from the crook of their elbow. "Sorry...I was sorta pissy earlier."

"Nah, I get why. You need a jacket or anything? I have a hoodie in my desk."

They glance down, then shrug noncommittally. "I'm good, I think. I have a flannel downstairs. But thanks." They step outside, and Akira stops to laugh at themselves in the mirror, running a hand through their hair. "Holy shit."

"Yeah, you look like a fuckin' hedgehog."

"Hey, fuck you Gav. Just because my hair is weird doesn't mean the whole of me looks like a hedgehog." A smirk climbs up their face as they exit the bathroom. "If anything, since the mess is confined to by head, you should call me a head-gehog."

Without hesitation, the older man punches them on the shoulder, even as an exasperated smile climbs his face. "That was absolutely horrible, I hate you."

The fit of giggling that overtakes them prevents them from replying for a few moments. "You love me, asshole."

"No, I don't. You're a little gremlin with horrible hair and even more horrible humor"

"You  _tolerate_ me, asshole."

"Close enough." He walks them over to the elevator, waits with them as the door chimes musically with the cab's approach. "So, what was the deal, why take it off?"

They look away, a steady blush on their ears. "I...I fell asleep in it and it was starting to hurt. Got too rushed in trying to pull it off and got...you know."

Gavin winces, sucking air through his teeth. "Yeah, I get that. Shit sucks." The elevator rang its arrival. "If you need more binders-outgrow them or whatever-you can come talk to me. I can hook you up."

The last traces of their previously teasing mood drops into something like surprise, one foot in the elevator. "Are...I-that is, do-you sure..?"

"Christ, kid. What else am I gonna do with 'em?"

"Donate them?"

"I can never get around to remembering to do that, and you're here, so you may as well take 'em." He shrugs. "If you wanna donate them, be my guest. But I don't intend on keeping them around much longer, I'm not that sentimental."

Akira blinks, and Gavin thinks he ought to snap a picture-they look more than ever like an astonished porcupine, with the hair and the expression. They open their mouth to say something; a thank you, probably, or another weak insistence that they can't.

The elevator closes in their face before they can say anything, however, and that's the last Gavin sees of them. The laugh he was holding back escapes in a rush at the comedic timing of it, and he's still chuckling as he makes his way to his desk. The thought of following them down gets pushed away, because if he knows anything about the kid by now, they'd talk to him again when they were ready.

(And he's right: several hours later, his phone hums in his pocket with a message from an unknown number: thanks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I make Gavin trans in this fic? Hells yes I did.
> 
> Gavin: im an emotionally stunted asshole who only recently opened up to nines to let him into my life im not gonna be doing that again anytime soon  
> akira: hi  
> gavin: fuck I guess I'm Adopting this kid now


	6. Air conditioners and ladder problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira tries to fix the air conditioner with the help of Calen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, canonically, rk900 isn't that much taller then rk800 but then again i dont respect anything that comes from david cage so
> 
> there is...so much banter in this. so much.

"Calen, are you busy?"

Calen blinks, breaking the connection with his terminal, ending the stream of information. It was an abnormally hot day in Detroit, temperatures ranging at an average of 97 degrees Fahrenheit, and the entire precinct was feeling the heat. Even some of the androids, the older models, had gone into an prolonged stasis at the docking station in an attempt to keep regulators cool. It didn't help that the building's air conditioning system was on the fritz, and the head custodian Mr. Davis was not present to fix it. Akira was especially suffering, as the lower level had poor ventilation and was little better than a slow steam-cooker on humid days.

And it was Akira who was standing besides him now, looking severely disgruntled and sweaty. They'd ditched their favored outfits of jeans and long-sleeved shirts, to try and placate the heat wave with a pair of short cargo pants and a loose-fitting linen button down, a size too big and currently tied around their waist. Leaving them in only a black tank top. Their bare arms are crossed almost protectively over their chest, rigid and seemingly plastered to the black (polyethurane, nylon, cotton, elastic) cloth despite the humidity.

"Not really. Is there something you need?"

"Yeah, can you come with me for a sec?" To Gavin, who was sweltering at his desk: "I'm stealing your partner, Gav."

Gavin barely blinks, just waves a hand in their direction. He'd shed his typical brown jacket in favor of t-shirts dug out of some long-forgotten box. Many of them, including this one, were ill fitting, either too small or too loose (but who was Calen to complain?). "Fuckin' take him."

Calen lets himself get led away in direction of the elevator, and immediately notices the distinct change. The elevator cab is cool, breezy, but the lower levels are about the temperature he expected. At least ten degrees hotter then upstairs. The steady hum of old floor fans echo throughout the hallway from the door of Akira's office.

To his surprise, Akira doesn't go to the office-instead stopping at a closed door next to it and easing it open. A janitor's closet, he realizes, complete with broom, mop, and a rolling cart for water and trash, all arranged neatly on the right side of the small space. In the back wall is a stack of shelves, one of which has been cleared of cleaning supplies to make room for Akira's laptop.

They shove him in, until he's standing directly beneath the burnt-out naked lightbulb and the grate of an air vent. He can feel a weak, lukewarm breeze beneath it, as Akira takes him by the wrists and carefully maneuvers him, before they take their laptop from the shelf and hand it to him. "Hold this?"

He takes it and carefully puts it beneath his right elbow, as they tug on his jacket in an encouragement to kneel down slightly. "Okay, cool. I'm gonna climb on your shoulders, and I'm going to need you to stand up."

"Why?"

"I'm gonna fix the A/C and I can't find the ladder. Therefore, you are assisting. Because you're the tallest guy here who can probably support my weight comfortably."

"That's true. I can carry weights of up to 215 pounds for extended periods of time."

"Great. Hold still." They place a knee on his, carefully pushing upwards. Dutifully, he doesn't move an inch, even as he feels his processors and mechanics adjusting to the added weight.

"Akira, I doubt that this is the safest alternative for this task." He hums, as they swing a leg over his neck, now sitting on his shoulders. ( _PROCESSING...114 lbs_ ) "I would not advise this course of action."

"It's either this or I stack chairs, so hush." Their voice is oddly strained and thin, and a glance upwards show them to be staring determinedly up at the air vent. "Stand up, slowly."

Calen complies, one hand tightening over their bare ankle, so skinny that his thumb overlapped his forefinger. Their combined heights is too tall for the little room, and he has to crouch to prevent from hitting Akira's head against the ceiling; even as it is, he can hear the sound of their hair scraping against the polyfoam ceiling tiles. "How do you intend to repair the air conditioning, anyways?"

"Pass me the laptop." Calen hands the laptop, which they balance on top of his head as they unscrew the grate. The screwdriver gets handed to him and immediately finds a place twirling over his fingers, the same way Connor did with coins and the same way he did with pens. "It's a decently new system, so it's computer automated. And the console they implanted to maintain the system is right here.

But the building recently updated wi-fi routers, as well as the wi-fi passwords. We're still doing security checks on it, so the password for casual employee use hasn't been made available yet. But since this console hasn't been connected to the internet, it's been running the default heating system for normal Detroit. Normal Detroit is usually cold, so it's actually making it warmer for me, so that means I'm  _dying_." They finish, passing Calen the screwdriver. Their upper body from the shoulders up was inside the vent, and he could hear clicking of the keyboard. "So I have to connect it into the internet and reset the system so that I don't get steamed into a dumpling."

"How long do you estimate that this will take?"

"A few minutes. Don't worry, I'll get you back to Gav ASAP, so you can keep making eyes at him."

"Hm." The screwdriver spins over his knuckles as he waits, thinking. "In the meantime, may I ask you some questions?"

"I kinda feel like this is a weird place to get interrogated, but sure."

"Why-" The tool flips in the air, arcing slightly, before falling back to roll over his fingers with a soft  _ping_. "-are you doing this, if you are so afraid of heights?"

Akira falls quiet above him, their fingers stilling on the keys. "How...how?"

"How what?"

"Don't 'how what' me, you walking lamppost. How do you know I'm scared?"

"Is that a confirmation you  _are_ scared?" And he chuckles when Akira kicks his chest. "I apologize. But your heart rate is significantly elevated, and you are deliberately trying to keep your breathing rate even. Furthermore, you've refused to look down ever since you got up there."

They huff, though in annoyance or because of the heat, Calen couldn't tell without facial cues. "Fine, you got me. I used to love climbing trees and stuff when I was a kid, but I took one nasty fall and suddenly developed mild acrophobia. And I...have enough faith in your ability not to drop me while I fix the system." They admit, almost grudgingly. "Plus, I hate heat more than I hate heights. Heights are tolerable when you can't see how high you are, at least."

Calen hums gently. "I am surprised by your sudden trust in me. I did not think I had interacted enough with you to have gained it."

"You are right. I just have trust in your abilities, and the fact that you can gain nothing from harming me."

"That's a...very grim way of thinking."

"Pshah, I'm kidding. But I really do trust you, you're like an older brother. Or something." There's a definite click as they close their laptop computer. "Down, please?"

He crouches, and lowers Akira out of the vent, still the same but with a considerable amount of gray dust clinging to their hair. They shimmy down his back, landing safely on their feet. Already, he can hear the increased hum of the air conditioner working to bring the temperature down, and detect the dropping heat in the air surrounding them. The barest beginnings of cool air tease at the hair on his neck.

It grows stronger as they both straighten up, Calen reaching up to replace the grate. Already, the currents of air were getting stronger, and Akira sighs in relief, stretching luxuriously upwards with the laptop held precariously between their knees. 

"Thank god, I was melting." They groan, before resettling the laptop safely in their arms. "I hate the sun."

"You don't even have windows down here. And the sun is necessary for the flourishing and advancement of life on Earth's surface."

"I am a tiny night-dwelling goblin, and my personal quest is to defeat the sun."

"Your personal quest will doom countless lives."

They pause at that, one hand resting on the door to their office, considering the question. Before shrugging and entering the room, depositing the laptop on a desk and moving to shut off the numerous fans all pointed at a specific chair. "I'll build a spaceship that can sustain all life on Earth and launch it into space. And then we'll destroy the sun from a safe distance."

_We'll?_  "I don't recall becoming a partner in this endeavor." He muses.

"You became a partner when you let me climb on your shoulders, tree man."

"I cannot help the fact that I was the most suitable one for your task. My height was part of my design, as intended by CyberLyfe." He adds on: "And I cannot feel the heat. I was designed to handle temperatures of up to 200 degrees Fahrenheit without having my systems overheat. I have no reason to assist you. If anything, my mission would be to stop you."

They place a hand on their heart, putting on a face of mock offense. "I am so hurt? Calen, I thought you were my friend."

Calen processes this information for a few milliseconds longer than usual. "We are friends?"

"Uh, yes? I didn't just pick you because you were the tallest person on duty. Well I did." They reach up and move as if to place a hand on his shoulder, then clearly reconsider halfway and settle the hand on his forearm instead. "I wasn't kidding earlier when I said you're like an older brother to me, if only because you're stupidly big and smart in an asshole sort of way and help me out a lot without being mean about it."

"Again, my height was designed by CyberLyfe for intimidation purposes in the field-"

"You're too dang big, Cal." Akira cuts him off. "Don't matter what CyberLyfe intended, you're too big."

"I am reasonably sized." He smirks. "According to Gavin, at least."

Akira mimes gagging, making a retching sound. "Ew?? I rescind my earlier comment. Connor's my new big brother."

"Wait, no, I want my status back." Akira just laughs at his protests, shrugging on their shirt as the degrees dropped. Their fiddling with the system certainly did its job, as the room dropped about twelve degrees. Air from above tugged at the abundance of gray clumps sticking to their hair. Giving them the impression that they've aged about thirty years within a span of minutes. He reaches over, shaking his fingers over their head in an attempt to comb some of the bits of filth out. His hand could easily span the entirety of their face, he realizes. No wonder they exaggerate his height.

They grunt at his touch, shrinking down only slightly until they realize what he's doing, staring at the positive downpour of dust from their head. "Gross."

"You will want to wash your hair thoroughly. I suspect there are several year's worth of dust and lint on your head right now."

Akira just rolls their eyes, even as specks of dust cling to the surface of their glasses. "I know that, _mom._ Come on, lets go return you to Gav."

[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^]

"If you intend to name me as a family member, I think I should at least be 'Dad'. That is what Gavin calls me sometimes, at least."

"Gross!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rk900 is not a man, he a tree  
> just a quick little word cough-up because i need to expel some of the eternal rage i keep within me as someone who has been 5'1" for the past five years, as well as my immortal distaste for summer
> 
> not my greatest piece of writing but a fun exercise, and i do love good good big bro rk being a lil shit so
> 
> Comments are the equivalent of my life, leave one for what interaction you want to see next

**Author's Note:**

> *dabbing* i'm self projecting my wish for a fulfilling life and a happy relationship onto these nerds lmao  
> thank you for reading, this is gonna be like a collection of drabbles and stuff with maybe some plot later but who can tell at this point honestly  
> love y'alls leave a comment and a kudos they're my only will to live
> 
> will edit this later, updates will probably vary


End file.
